| abstract | - Standing on the balcony overlooking the assembled stage and crowd, Morrison Van Sen, Moff of Selene and capturer of Han Solo chugs down a shot of Corellian Whiskey. He would participate in this farse. Another bad move on the Empire's side, one he could do nothing about. He lights up a cigarette and smokes it quietly as he waits for the prisoner to be brought down and for the judges to be called down to the stage. The tobacc stick doesn't take long to blink out of existance between the Kallan's large fingers. He tosses it into a crystal ash tray and grabs his dark-blue colored helmet. "Time to make a martyr," he mutters to himself. The stage is set... all that remains is for the players to assemble. Already on their mark are the three Judges, imposing figures in their robes of office. At the center of this gathering of Imperial judicial might sits Laurence Dante of Coruscant, weathered and flinty and prepared to pass sentance on the criminals and terrorists who would undermine the Empire. Foremost among said riff-raff is Han Solo... or as the penal system has baptized him, prisoner 3651. "Citizens of the Empire," he begins, steely grey eyes glinting in anticipation of the punishment that awaits Solo, "We have called you to this assembly to witness how the powers that be deal with insurgents, murderers, and the lowest common denominator. The trial that you will shortly be privy to is the culmination of many years of Intelligence gathered on Prisoner 3651, more commonly known as Han Solo." The name is not so much said as it is spit out, Dante's disgust overruling his otherwise iron discipline. Two other judges nod in approval to their senior's words, the robotic gesture of assent echoed throughout much of the assembled crowd. The Empire is nothing if not of one mind. "Prisoner 3651 has made a career out of bombing and killing Imperial citizens, of callously slaughtering law-abiding people. Today we mean to put an end to his reign of terror!" Following close behind the StormTroopers, the Director of the Bureau of Operations strides. Bowing before the tribunal, she rises and announces, "I bring forward Prisoner 3651 for this tribunal to try him for crimes against the Empire and if found guilty pass judgement accordingly." The third judge, a retired naval officer silently nods, giving the prisoner a look of distaste and looks down at some notes on a datapad before him. The throngs of people gathered here for such an auspicious occasion are mind-boggling. A small group of gawkers has made its way along the roadway toward the Parade Grounds, having arrived at the last moment after hearing the news of the upcoming execution -- or so that was the presumption. In fact, they had been seeking out Han Solo for weeks now, but now to see him killed, but to liberate him from the hands of his evil executors. Luke Skywalker, along with his companions, is dressed to blend in with the cultured crowd of Athaniss' cities. He is accompanied by his sister, two apprentices, and a pair of New Republic soldiers who have volunteered for such a mission. Sharing a glance with Leia, the Jedi Master finds a place to stand where they can all be accommodated, and his knowing eyes sweep toward the stage where his old friend is being put on trial. Reign of terror? If one could call the life of Han Solo, a hero in his own right, a life of terror then they clearly were deluding themselves from the harshness of reality, or as the galaxy had come to call them, Imperials. A smuggler and scoundrel turned war veteran, he had been fighting the tyranny and oppression of the Empire for many years, and it had finally caught up with him. Walking quickly, or as quickly as one can within the confines of shackles, Han heads the small group, being pushed and shoved by the white, armor clad troopers as they make their way to the staging area. Still wearing the clothes that he had adorned the day he was plucked from the Corellian wilderness, his hair is matted to his face, dirt and sweat smearing his skin. As he walks his eyes sweep the crowd, a frown spreads slowly, not a face he could recognize. Would anyone come? "A little more gentle, will you?" he states with a slight smirk as he is pushed forward in front of the tribunal, falling to his knees as his strength gives in. Perhaps Petra had been right, today he would surely meet his doom. Stanley is one of the New Republic soldiers who accompany the Jedi on this daring mission. He as well is dressed in civilian garb, complete with a cape that gives him a refined look. As the sight of what has been prepared opens before him, he is hard pressed to stay from narrowing his eyes and uttering a curse under his breath... hard pressed, but trained well. He forces a sneer of satisfaction upon his face as Solo is pressed forward. Aren was standing off to the side of the stage, where the crowd was thinner but his view was limited by the large gallows that had been erected. Before the the pectacle had started Aren had tried to search out Thralos, who had been granted leave as well, but to no avail. The thick murmur of thousands of voices faded as there was movement on the stage. Several white clad men were escorting out a grimy prisoner. Aren rose onto his toes to get a good look at Han Solo. He expected to see a cold looking man, large and terrible. Instead Solo was average in height with a light build and judging by the way he fell to his knees before the tribunal, rather weak. Aren dropped back onto his feet, slightly confused. How could a man so terrible and evil look so simple? "Perhaps they got the wrong man." Aren muttered and stood on his toes once more to watch the trial proceed. Van Sen walks up to the side of the stage, taking one of the 'places of honor' at the ceremony. He keeps his face emotionless as he walks down the stairs and through the stadium corridor. He emerges with his helmet on and makes the stage just before they bring Solo out. He stands there, his blaster slung across his chest in a combat sling. The large Kallan's armor is immaculately polished for the occasion. His personal feelings surprise him. The entire affair is disgusting. In killing Solo they would be making a martry and if they were going to do it, then why not have the trial in a secure location or aboard the Super Star Destroyer where security would be impossible to subvert. At anyrate, the Empire was often tackless in their willingness to defy logic and put on a big show. As he watches the execution ceremony, Loor decides that he has most definitely chosen the right side. How could someone join that band of terrorists known as the "New Republic"? The Empire is right to destroy the evil that is Han Solo. He has slaughtered thousands of innocent Imperial citizens. As he stands there, though, Loor feels as though something could easily go wrong, even though the grounds are filled with thousands of Imperial citizens and there are many Imperial guards,so many people make it hard to keep a watchful eye on the prisoner and all the people moving around. Corporal Sato is sitting up in the stands with the other citizens so he can blend in a little bit. He gets quiet when Dante starts speaking and when he is finished, the Corporal yells his approval as he jumps up out of his seat. Sato's been hearing all about this Han Solo guy and he was looking forward to his execution...that is, unless there was trouble and for that, he had his weapons ready. Ai'kani enters in with Luke and her other companions; some of which she has only met on this day. However, it is obviously no time to make acquaintances. Standing among the crowd, the woman looks up towards the stage where Han stands as if no more than cattle to the slaughter. Her brows furrow together slightly to the disgusting nerve those speaking have to throw the word of justice around. Indeed, this is not justice, but fear personified into the utmost form of violence and ignorance. Her eyes glance around the large area gauging their chances. She doesn't have much to go on. Weapons are nill. Then again, the only real people here with weapons would be the guards... and in a frantic crowd, firing on a few single targets might prove difficult. Ai'kani smiles to this. They might actually have the advantage here. Having slipped into the crowd as close as she could get to the stage, Rook watches the spectacle the Imperials are making in quiet desgust. Having seen the same thing so many times back home, she is almost immune... but to see Han Solo, hero of the Republic, up there in front of this womp-rat court nearly brings tears to her eyes. The tall woman carefully screws her face into a snarl of angry approval. This is justice, Imperial-style. Which is to say, it isn't justice at all. It's about then that she hears a quiet voice mention the possibility that they might have the wrong man. Looking up, she sees a man in, wonder of wonders, an Imperial dress uniform! That's different... she quietly resolves to hold her fire if she sees this one go for a gun. Or at least switch to Stun. She takes a few deep breaths and quietly prepares herself to move. She's not here as a spectator, but as a participant. They don't have the wrong man... and they won't have the right man, either, for much longer. Not if she has anything to say about it. Walking with the rigidly precise movements of an Imperial functionary, Leia's silk swishes unheard in the milling of the crowds. She tries to see around the people ahead of her, but has very little luck. Then, movement to the side attracts her attention and she sees Han being lead forth. For an instant, there is joy in her gaze quickly muted to an official smirk of approval. When he is taken before the tribunal, she cringes within and her hand takes Lukes briefly. She motions toward a position off to one side where the crowd is a little thinner. Eager little zealot wants to move to where she can see the execution better. Or something. Danik remained emotionless as Han Solo was brought out to the stage before the three Judges, Petra Doom in tow. This wasn't the first time Han Solo had been captured, and Danik had grew rather apathetic, his mind shifting to the horrors on Etti IV that ensued as a result of Solo's capture. But that was nearly a decade ago.. maybe the Empire could get it right this time? Unlike Aren, Kreldin wasn't fooled by the fellow Corellian's appearance; Danik knew firsthand what Han Solo had been responsible for, along with his Millenium Falcon. Crossing his arms across his chest, Danik sighed and just wished the judges would forget whatever crap they were doing and kill Solo already. They were taking too long. He began to tap his right foot out of habit, as he began to grow anxious and paranoid. Just hurry it up already! Lieutenant Ashby, one of the survivors of Farlex, was in charge of one security division's platoon of troops placed here to ensure that all went according to plan. They were outfitted in typical Imperial Army equipment, patrolling the area and securing the entrances with check-points, verifying the IDs of everyone who wished to enter. There were more platoons spread out through the grounds, teams of snipers set up, and other surprises in store for anyone who was crazy enough to interfere with the progression of peace and justice throughout the galaxy. "So noted," Dante nods to Petra from his perch before snapping, "Prisoner 3651, you WILL be silent during these proceedings. As you may have noticed by now, the lack of a defense attourney here on your behalf doesn't bode well for you as it is... do not force this tribunal's hand. We are not the sort of savages your people are, but we will not tolerate insolent behavior from you. Be silent or face further corporal punishment." A brief whisper is exchanged between him and the retired naval officer on his right... a joke perhaps? New information? Either way, Dante's thin lips briefly pull into a predatory smirk before he eyes Solo and nods once to the other Judge. "My esteemed colleague has just informed me that the prisoner has been known to boast of his murderous exploits in establishments across the galaxy. This tribunal condemns such evilly-inspired bravado. A killer is one thing, but a killer who recites paeans to his own bloodthirsty agenda is beneath contempt. He is sub-human, a blight on the galaxy!" The rousing speech has the intended effect as the crowd erupts into thunderous applause, a good many shouts of "Death to Solo!" or "Long live the Empire!" peppering the assembled masses. Satisfied with his ability to get a reaction out of the crowd, Dante levels his flinty gaze down at the worm named Solo. "Prisoner, come forward." Petra just tsks inwardly, she *offered* to wash his face so he could meet his fate looking a bit...neater. Years of training give her a militaristic stance even when not in uniform. She watches coldly as the StormTroopers prod the prisoner closer to the tribunal, with a twist of hand forcing him down to his knees. The perform their function with silent precision. As the StormTroopers deal with the prisoner, Director Doom scans the crowd below, her gaze alert for anything that seemsodd. From her vantage point she cannot see much detail and instead trusts her troops to do as told. The naval officer behind the tribunal table looks smug and murmers to Dante once more before gesturing to the gallows and making a slicing gesture with his hand. Many thoughts race through Han's mind as he kneels before the tribunal, and given the circumstances they should remain as such, though this might be his last chance at defiance and he was going to take it. "Corporal punishment further than death?" Han snaps from his kneeled position in front of the judges, glaring through the hair that plasters to his forehead. "Do as you will to me. My death will be met with renewed vigor from the New Republic, there will not be rest until your days of power end." As he speaks beads of sweat begin to form acrossed his brow, a solitary drop running down his temple and leaving a trail in the grime. Standing slowly as he is beconned forward, Han takes a few small steps, his gaze meeting with Dante's. Morrison is thankful he can't see the proceedings. Hearing them was bad enough. Solo was a renegade yes, a rebel yes, but terrorist was pushing it. Calling him evil, when the Emipre had just as many so-called terrorists on their rosters, makes the large Kallan Moff roll his eyes beneath the shielded anonymity his helmet. Solo's penalty was deserved for aiding in the destruction of the Death Star and killing thousands of Imperial troops in the process, but Morrison isn't exactly sure he wouldn't have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. To him, it was all about philosophy. The Empire had it right. Strength was the only peacemaker in the galaxy. Democracy was useful in limited government, but without national ferver, it ended in the death-bloat that ended the Old Republic so long ago. As the crowd chants 'Death to Solo' and 'Long Live the Empire,' Morrison makes a mental note to see if the Empire's top propoganda official has a spice-addiction or not. Teh blaytant COMPNOR crowd-encitors in the masses seemed a bit obvious to him. When the legendary Corellian blabbers toward the tribunal about bringing them down, he finds himself dissappointed. He had expected something more witty and less expected. Urged into the thinner part of the crowd by his sister, Luke squeezes her hand reassuringly and watches as Han -- bedraggled, dirty and too thin -- is brought before the tribunal and is used to stir up the typical lies of Imperial propaganda. He glances to his sister's dark eyes as the crowd around them erupts into cheers, a little smile curling his lips. And in a distant part of the city, a little blue and white R2 unit wheels unobtrusively into the doorway of a munitions installation, joining the flow of other droids who are coming alive for the day's next shift. And, a few moments later, he wheels his way back out, a fiery orange-white explosion blossoming behind him. Loor noticed that one of the Imperials,like him, said that the Empire had the wrong man. Wrong man? That has to be Solo! He has the grimy, evil look of a rebel on his face! And the way he slumped down, he knows he doesn't have a chance, because the Empire brings swift justice. Solo's execution should be the swiftest, because there's no doubt that he has apposed the Empire, and has commited murder,smuggling, and many other acts of rebellion.For once Loor smirks to himself as the crowd shouts around him one thing: Long Live the Empire! "Long Live the Empire indeed, and Death to all who appose it!" Everything is going to be going down very soon. Everything they had talked about. Ai'kani's hazelesque eyes glance to Luke for a moment before nodding to him. She knows what she has to do. Slowly, the woman woman begins to make her way through thickness of the crowd; craning her neck and getting on her tip-toes; as if trying to get a better look. "Excuse me," she says as she passes being after being in a gentle Coruscant accent. Thank you, Faust. At least she gained a few useful things from him. The woman weaves her way through until her circle brings her up near the right side of the gallows. There, for now, she stops and waits. Sabrina til now had been centered in a small portion of the crowd, not too far from her companions but observant still. Amethyst eyes watch the scene unfold, stoic expression on noble features remaining through the whole even as the crowds around her cheer, jeer and murmur. She had a gentle bearing, carrying herself among the cultured of Athaniss as though she belonged somehow, but as the bogus trial and heinous execution proceeds, she moves from where she stands, slipping easily between spectators. Watching the man she loves say his peace, Leia is filled with pride and a fierce determination to end this spectical. She looks up to catch Luke's smile and; for just a moment returns it. Knowing what is to come, she squeezes her brother's hand, then releases it. Easing forward, she slips between spectators to the left of the stage. Short woman like that needs to be up close to see what is going on, right? For only a flicker of a moment, she touches Han's mind with the sensation of a cool breeze blowing. Then, the sensation is gone again. Though she stands at attention, it is surely in support of this fiasco... Er. Tribunal. Yeah. Far over on the left side of the event, Rook watches as Solo speaks his defiance... no, it's not fancy, but /look/ at the man! Clearly he's been tortured and starved... no wonder his wit's a bit lacking at the moment! They wouldn't even have the gall to call this farce a trial on her homeworld... She grits her teeth involuntarily and prays it looks remotely like the idiotic frothing fervor COMPNOR would expect. Her hand slips beneath her cloak, finding the stylish satchel at her side and opening it. From it, keeping her hands and the bag beneath her cloak, she slips a bulky heavy blaster, leaving the weapon half-in and half-out of the bag. It will draw swiftly and easily when the time comes. Hopefully that'll be any second... the soldiers are beginning to look impatient. Just kill the Sith-forsaken criminal and be done wth it," murmurs Stanley, just loud enough that those in the immediate vicinity may hear. Two nobler types turn and nod their head approvingly, while a third turns and shouts into the crowd, "Kill him! Kill him!" But this is not all that the soldier has been prepared for, murmuring anti-rebel jeerings in an attempt to fit in. His eyes turn quicky to watch as Ai'kani departs, then make a similar gesture to watch Sabrina's movements. Only sparing a moment, he begins to ease his way through the crowds, following Ai'kani at slight distance, and making an odd pattern to throw off any watchful eyes that may suspect he is following her. In that regard, he makes his way toward the right side of the stage, smirking the entire time and throwing up the occasional cheer when the surrounding crowd is in that sort of mood. His duty is to flank and protect Ai'kani, and he does so with the attempt to attracted little attention, if any at all. His hand finds its way beneath the cape hanging at his side, gripping the handle of his blaster with loose and ready fingers. So it began. Danik's paranoia once again pulled through as the explosion diverted everyone's attention away from the execution. They were right on time of course. Didn't take a genius to know what was going on at this point. Danik took a look around, watching as the Imperial troops rushed around, trying to get a hold on the situation. Danik himself moved his way through the crowd, trying to get away from the mass of people and to get in contact with some of the troops. Lieutenant Ashby began to shout out orders through his comlink, ordering squads 1-2 to merge with Lieutenant Drexal's platoon and investigate the disturbance. He ordered squads 3-4 to set up a perimeter, while some of the other squads were already in the process of fortifying the area. "Sergeant Major Woden, I hope your team is ready; watch our backs," Ashby said, and he himself readied his weapon. The other troops were already leaving the area, entering repulsor transports which took them to the site of the explosion. Danik, however, was turned down as he approached the troops; he tried to tell them it was a diversion, but to no avail. The troops had packed up and left to investigate the explosion, leaving the troops here more vulnerable to whatever the rebels had up their sleeves. Mumbling a few curses, Danik prepared himself for the worse. The laughter that booms across the arena is as mirthless as it is chilling. "Your precious REPUBLIC will soon be no more," Dante counters, leaning forward slightly to better watch Han, "The wheel of the Imperial machine turns steadily and the Rebellion will soon be obliterated, caught in the cogs and ground into dust. Regardless... as I recall, I warned you about the consequences of not keeping silent. Guards, if you will?" With a simple wave of his aged but still-steady hand, Dante signals for the guards to go about the business of teaching the crowds a valuable lesson of what happens to those who defy Imperial orders. As the dogs of war begin their task, smashing their E-11 blaster rifles into Han's face, ribs and back, more whispers are exchanged between the judges and an approving nod from the naval officer is spared the stormtroopers. The tribunal watches on in silence for about a minute before Dante raises his hand once more, indicating that it's enough for now. "I trust that the prisoner will henceforth keep a civil tongue in his head for the remainder of his natural life," the judge intones, "Because if he cannot, we shall be forced to aid him by cutting out the offending part." The prospect of more violence sits well with the crowds, who shout, "Cut out his tongue!!" and "String him up! Leave him to the scavengers!" As the explosion rings through the city and the sonic cue reaches the arena, the massses become momentarily confused. Dante, however, is no such sap. "No doubt your FRIENDS are responsible for THAT," he hisses at Han before looking up into the crowd, "No doubt there are REBELS among us even today, REBELS who would see this trial disrupted and justice denied the citizens of the Empire! Make no mistake, justice WILL be served today! Your FRIENDS have just accelerated my schedule. Guards, bring the prisoner to the gallows AT ONCE!" Immensely pleased with this development, the crowd roars its approval as Solo is hauled off his knees and marched to the platform upon which his life is surely to end. Hearing the explosion, Petra lifts her comlink and murmers into it furiously and a second pair of StormTroopers move up onto the stage and flank Han Solo. With a swift movement she extricates a blaster from an inner thigh holster where it was concealed. She presses the blaster against Han's back and leans in to whisper, "no doubt your friends have arrived as you hoped but I say that you will meet your Doom today." The odd sensation, a familiar whisp of wind blowing anxiously at him, is abrubtly interupted as Dante speaks again, instructing the troopers to punish those that speak that surpass ignorance and speak the truth; in this instance the offender being Han. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as the heavy swinging of the rifles connect with the already abused flesh, he is capable of taking the first three blows. The sound of the weapons meeting bone erupts in a series of cracks and heavy thuds, no doubt bones giving in under the stress. The swings that follow send Han to the ground, blackness calling out to him, pulling him from the chanting, yells, and further bodily damage that continues. Fighting to remain conscious, his eyes peel open, his vision blurred by a flood of tears that can no longer be held back. Should he have the capacity to speak again to the judges, he would, but for now he would have to fight for his life. The explosion forces Morrison out of his loathful musing. His dark eyes beneath his armored visor begins scanning the crowd. As they usher Solo off toward the gallows, the Kallan knows things were about to become very complicated. Indeed, the entire affair seemed orchestrated in its lax security to draw a rescue attempt. Perhaps it was a trap lain without his knowledge. Regardless of the plans and events revolving around him, Morrison still has a job to do. He makes his way onto the stage and near the section of judges. The priority for him is to evacuate the VIPs, then deal with any rescue attempt that would be forthcoming. ..."Zulu 5-7 responding to incident. Plant manager says he has casualties at the munitions facility, looks like a bomb of some kind ripped through the slag suppressors..." Morrison's ears perk up as security chatter from other parts of the city begins filtering over the comlink... Blue eyes lift to the sky to watch the fireball that rises in the distance. The Force stirs around the Jedi Master, giving him an awareness of the entire scene as it unfolds. He is an instrument of that Force, having served it faithfully for so meany years, and in this moment there is nothing to distract him from his purpose. He unclasps the disguising blue robe which had obscured the lightsaber at his belt, the folds of cloth pooling at his feet. With a nod to those near him, he takes one mere step backward -- and leaps. The figure somersaults through the air, a blade of emerald fire coming to life as he hurtles toward the gallows, and Luke Skywalker comes to light directly beside Petra. The blaster that had been stuck between Han Solo's shoulder blade's is sliced in two, and the Jedi glares at the Imperial minion with a warning look. "True justice will be served here today," he calls out to the crowds, coming to stand in front of the doomed prisoner, lightsaber blazing in defiance. The explosion goes off and, as expected, everything is suddenly thrown out of the Imperial's plan. Reaching under her skirt, Ai'kani withdraws her own blaster and begins to charge it up. It is the sudden awareness of her Master's lightsaber that snaps Ai'kani into action as well. Snapping her outer skirt off to allow for more maneuvering, Ai'kani's legs spring; sending her up onto the gallows. Her hand twitches; wanting to reach for a saber that is not there, but she quickly raises her blaster and fires upon the first Stormtrooper she sees; focusing on her shots to allow the Force to guide them to their targets and aiming to incapacitate. Rook's eyes widen at the sight of Luke Skywalker flying through the air with the greatest of ease. After Leia's stories of her brother and the adventures they'd had, she finally gets to see this... and she has to admit it, she's /impressed/! And more than a little awed. She shakes the effect off quickly, seeing Stormtroopers moving towards the stage. "Hold on, boys, no hecklers, no hecklers!!" she shouts, her Kylan appearing in a blur of black silk and durasteel. The heavy pistol spews red energy as fast as she can pull the trigger into the squad of troopers, but she's not standing still to witness the effects. The stage awaits, and so does a badly wounded, helpless husband to a very good friend of hers. As Luke leaps onto the staging area and slices Petra's blaster, Leia darts around to the stairs up. As she moves, she unbuttons the jacket she wears and pulls a blaster from her wasteband. The distinctive whine of the weapons power cycle rising to full follows her as she moves. At the top of the stairs, she crouches and takes a bead on the nearest trooper and fires. Then, not waiting to see the result, she leaps to one side, letting the force guide her flight. Danik watched as the Jedi snapped into action; one throwing himself next to Han and disarming Petra, while someone else opened fire with her blaster. So one Jedi? They clearly underestimated the Empire. But as Danik saw the Jedi more clearly, he began to feel a bit doubtful. Luke Skywalker himself. Danik knew Skywalker's reputation well, and did battle with him twice in the past. Both times ended in unfavorable results for Kreldin, but he was at disadvantages each time. But this was different. He hoped. Taking his HM-100 riot gun into hands after unslinging it from his shoulder, Kreldin removed his trench coat and fedora, dropping them to the floor. Prepared he was. He went airborne, using the jetpack on his enhanced armor, bursting into the sky towards the scene. He began to formulate his attack; Skywalker was incredibly dangerous, and he had backup. Best to kill his pawns first and then surround him, and another one had just joined the fray. Ai'kani was closer, and thus was his first target. Hovering over the area, he aimed downwards at the lady opening fire with her blaster on stormtroopers, and released a blast from the riot gun. Meanwhile, the Imperial troops weren't taken completely by surprise; they had been prepared when the explosion sounded, but they definitely weren't prepared for a Jedi Master such as Luke Skywalker. Several troops fall from shots from Skywalker's pawns, but more return fire, but unfortunately for the Imperials, a whole platoon was off investigating the munitions, limiting their return fire. Lieutenant Ashby, however, is still around, taking up position with two squadmates behind several stacked crates. Using the crates as cover, he peaked out and opened fire with his ST-I at various targets. Luke Skywalker is not an unknown face to Laurence Dante... indeed, if there is one criminal whom the Judge would like to see dead even more than Han Solo, it is Skywalker. Skywalker and his unnatural cadre deserve nothing but obliteration for the havoc they have wrought upon Imperial designs. "SEIZE THEM," the grey-haired man orders to the troopers, "Do not let the Rebels escape!" Seeing the Jedi up close makes him hate the desert man even more... he's blond, he's younger... he should not be in command of the tools of witchcraft. It's merely more proof that the Rebellion is evil and must be purged from the galaxy. A squadron of white-armored troopers advances on the lightsaber-wielding Luke, apparently unafraid of what the consequences may be. They've hear rumors, but... Rumors suddenly become reality as the weapon is sliced in half. Still, the troopers do not have the option of backing down or running off, nor do they have the desire to. They are here to defend their Empire and their way of life down to the last man if it needs be. At Luke's display, Morrison quickly and calmly escorts the VIPs out of the area. With a sigh Petra scowls at Luke Skywalker., "It *would* be you wouldn't it? You have no jurisdiction herethis is an Imperial matter.." She leans in and murmers to the jedi, her lips curved into a feral smile. Stepping back she gestures her voice rising over the panicked crowds of people, "LOOK AT THESE TERRORISTS, THEY BLOW UP YOUR LIVELIHOOD, THEY MURDER YOUR PROTECTORS, HOW MANY WILL HAVE LOST THEIR LIVES BY THEIR BOMBS, HOW MANY WILL LOSE THEIR LIVES STARTED IN RIOTS BEGUN BY THEIR ACTIONS!" The StormTroopers left form ranks and prepare to deal with the threat, forced on the defensive. Having not taken notice to the pressure of Ms. Doom's blaster pressed firmly against his back, Han continues to lay flat on the floor of the stage. Squinting his eyes tightly, they continue to water as pain envelopes his body. He had not been mistreated during his stay on the capital ship, recieving food and adequate bedding, though the judges clearly were not as forgiving as those that had been taking care of him. Incapacitated by the pain, the happenings around him continue to go on without notice, his body lying in the midst of an upcoming battlefield. As a squad of Imperial troops converge on him, Luke's lightsaber flashes in bright emerald arcs, deflecting shots harmlessly to the side, and sending a few back to their sources. His eyes narrow as Petra whispers her threats, but he has a mission to complete, and little time to trade barbs. His best friend and brother-by-marriage is on the gallows, and he owes it to his sister to make sure he is delivered safe and sound. "Then call off your troops, Doom, and we'll depart in peace," he rasps, dodging behind the woman and using her as something of a shield as he kneels down and presses a hand to Han's forehead. "We're here for you," he says quietly, and waves a hand over his bindings so that they fall free. Finding no resistance on her journey out of the auditorium, Sabrina had exited with relative ease. Why not? Most sentients were trying to get /in/ to see the happenings, getting out was not the problem. Her footsteps echo in a relatively empty lobby, made more so by the troops that go off to to re-enforce certain areas as the explosion rocks the city and casts a golden glow on the immediate surrounding areas. She slips outside, head craning back to see the remaining glow of the explosion, exhaling softly "Good job, Artoo." She murmurs before drawing her violet gaze about, expression lightening as she spots two troopers besides a landspeeder, no doubt brought by some high faluting dignitary and ordered the poor hapless troops to keep it safe. It was the latest model of course, decked out with all the trimmings. No doubt it had a sweet engine lying in wait beneath the hood ready to be used for some creative antics. But there was the matter of the two troopers to deal with. As the scene within the auditorium erupts into chaos, Sabrina can feel the tremors of the Force and she inhales, drawing strength from it as she approaches the two. "Hey.." She says, smiling pleasantly only to meet with the expected "HALT" and the aiming of E-11's. She sighs "The hard way, eh boys?" sculpted brow rising. The two troopers look at each other, and one might almost see the humor on their faces beneath the helmets, afterall what could an unarmed woman pose a threat with? She couldn't hide a blaster under the gossamer fabric of that dress afterall. They raise their rifles level. Sabrina sighs, shaking her head and she draws the fabric up along her leg, revealing a well turned ankle and the soft curve of a developed calve. The two troopers are stunned for a moment by the sheer oddity but not all together unpleasant turn and they lower their rifles for a moment. It's not every day a woman shows off some leg to them. Swiftly, Sabrina pulls the remainder of the fabric up, a silver cylinder revealed where it is strapped to her thigh, and it ignites in a brillant flash of purple. The two guards falter, raising their blasters back up with alacrity but not swiftly enough as Sabrina brings the humming blade straight through both weapons and turning in an arc to strike the pair of stormtroopers down before they can call for help. But it was too late for that, several troopers still at a good distance from her and on high alert already see the action and begin running towards her. "Time to move swiftly." She mutters, powering down the lightsaber and scrambling into the speeder, hands deftly running over the controls. The vehicle growls to life, repulsors glowing as she coaxes it into the air and turns it towards the stage’s direction. "Here goes nothing..." Hearing the distinctive sound of a jetpack, coupled with a riot gun's booming discharge, Leia rolls to one side, ending half under a chair, her blaster aiming upward. Opening to the Force, Leia pulls the energy inward surrendering to it's flow. Her aim is true as she squeezes off several shots that sizzle and arch toward the man above. Petra's shouting might be calculated to raise the anger of those here to rescue Han, but for Leia it does the reverse. It is nothing more than theatrics, calculated to stir the people. To cause them to become soldiers in a war that is not theirs. Rolling to her feet again, Leia races across toward Petra, her fallen husband, and her brother. As she runs, Leia is guided by the force, dodging blaster bolts as they come toward her. Getting close, she leaps into the air, reverses her blaster to bring it's stock down to strick the woman on the back of her head. Perhaps it is not politically correct, but neither is killing her husband. Moreso, even. Okay... there are more of those troopers than Rook had seen at first. Too many to go after directly, in fact. The tall woman winces as the running troopers begin to about-face and form ranks. Covering fire slashes around her as she dives for the cover of one of the decorative stone monuments, hitting on her shoulder and side-rolling. She slowly gets into a crouch from the ground, mindful of her long skirt. Never give Stormtroopers a chance to get into a straight-up fight. They do that too well. It's when things get creative that they tend to mess up. And of all the days to choose to dress up! Admittedly, she's never worn a skirt before. How would she know what kind of trouble one could be? It's about then that she notices one of the Stormtroopers she'd shot before lying only a foot or two away from the monument. Reaching over, she grabs the man and drags him as far behind the monument as she can without leaving its cover. Unstrapping his utility belt, she quickly looks through it. Grenades, grenades... here they are! In short order, three fragmentation grenades are flying one-by-one towards the ranked troopers, arcing in flight and hopefully hitting the ground amongst them... With one, swift movement, Stanley withdrew his DL-44 heavy blaster pistol. The weapon charged with a snap and an exponentially rising whine, and he charged after Ai'kani, his shoulder striking one of the civilians who was too slow to move out of the way, sending the Imperial supporter to the ground. A couple of shots are sent off, finding their mark with skill and excellency as they strike the torso's of two Imperial Stormtroopers on the back end of those approaching Skywalker, causing them to fall to the ground with a clatter of cocoon-like white armor. Then, a few civilians turn, incited by Petra's cries, intent on facing Stanley despite their lack of arms. "Lunacy," he growls, and proceeds to charge them, throwing his shoulder into one's torso, and his forearm into the nose of another. When both collapse on the ground lacking consciousness, he finds a new hole of opportunity, and lowers the weapon long enough to scale the steps and breach the stage, lacking the flair of the leaping Jedi. Turning, Stanley raises his weapon to the approaching Stormtroopers, cover fire lashing out from his pistol as he puts himself between one of the approaching flanks, and the fallen comrade, Han Solo. Shrapnel from one of the fragmentation grenades sears across his face, opening a bleeding wound, but the soldier holds his ground and continues to fire upon the approaching troopers. After opening fire on Ai'kani, Kreldin doesn't stop to look to see if he hit her; he was fairly certain he did, but he had no time to check. Luke Skywalker was now his primary target. Still hovering mid-air, Kreldin saw Skywalker beginning his release of Han Solo. That he could not tolerate. "Skywalker!" he shouted, aiming the HM-100 down towards the Jedi Master. Despite being a stun weapon only, the HM-100 was quite powerful, and Kreldin was going to take advantage of it, and the fact that a lightsaber could not deflect it (having learned his lesson that blasters were useless against a Jedi) only made it a better weapon to use in a situation like this. He squeezed on the trigger, releasing a blast towards the Jedi Master. As the crowd of spectators rushed for the exits, the Imperial troops had a better sight of who was their enemy, and their attack intensified. Most of them didn't see Leia darting for the stage, but they did see the Jedi Sabrina, and thus concentrated their attack on the Jedi, forgetting that rebel troops were also attacking them, such as Stanley and Rook. A Jedi was just a more alluring target. But as the grenades began to fall down upon them, killing some citizens running by in the process, the Imperial stormtroopers return the favor, hurling grenades towards the rebel troops. "What? Are you going to kill me?" Petra's tone is sarcastic, "I am who I amthat is something that cannot be changed. I cannot call off the troops and you of all people know that Luke Skywalker." Her voice lowers to a murmer meant for his ears only and she whispers harshly, "I did what I could now get OUT of here" Knowing it is futile, but a warrior to the core, the young woman swings a muscular fist abruptly backwards towards the man behind her in an attempt to make contact with Luke's nose. Before her fist can make contact, the butt of Leia's blaster comes into contact with her head. Reeling to the side she exposes Han and Luke to the gunfire, her body no longer a shield. It is not the hardest hit she has received on the head, but she sways stunned for the moment and doubles over as nausea overtakes her. Han slowly begins to fade back into consciousness, the battle that ensues around him a startling sight. Grunting loudly as he rolls to his back, he smiles as he catches a glimpse of Leia and Luke standing over him, at least for the time being. Burying the pain in the back of his mind, Han pushes himself up into a kneeling position once again, nearly falling back to the ground several times in the process. "About time you got here," he quips quickly, his voice emitting quietly. He had no doubts that with the help of his family and the others that had come with that they would escape, hopefully without many more casualties or wounds. Skywalker is about to dodge Petra's swing when he sees the butt of Leia's blaster come down on the back of the Imperial's head. As she begins to sway, he grins approvingly at his sister, stepping out of the way so that she can approach her haggard husband. But a tickle of warning comes to life in the back of his mind, one that his senses tell him to take heed of before he is even aware of its source. Eyes close half-lidded, his free hand extending, so that the podium upon the stage shudders and comes flying directly into the path of the HM-100's stun blast. "Watch out!" he yells to the others near him. He reaches out with his senses, searching for another in the mayhem -- the one given the task of getaway driver. *Sabrina? Anytime now!* he conveys along their link in the Force. Fire begins to shower around her, though more specfically red lances of eneregy from fired blasters pelts the air around the speeder and Sabrina gooses the engines drawing hard on the controls and sending the vehicle on an upward climb, engines whining as it lifts high enough to glide over the heads of the gathered crowds, chaotic churning as they are becoming from all the action and weapons fires. Bolts singe into the side of the swoop but the Jedi hopeful keeps her mind in calm focus, minding the controls as she draws closer to the stage. A stacatto of shots from a trio of closing troopers causes her to weave the speeder to one side, lowering it's altitude and the cast off from the repulsors pummel several citizens down to the ground though relatively unharmed. Sab winces, gunning at the power to the engines again and the swoop rises, bee lining for the stage. Everything else around her is a humming symphony, background to her own task. Her senses outstretched though the living Force she keeps a keen eye on approaching dangers, but her task is to get to Luke, Han and Leia with speed that required a certain defiance of the natural laws, or at least, the type of speed she hoped this speeder was capable of giving. Blaster fire continues to rain down on her damaging the snazzy paint job the speeder's owner no doubt spent a small fortune on. Not to mention the upholstery...burned with more holes than a block of savarian cheese. If she weren't so concentrated on what she was doing Sabrina might take a moment to chuckle, but as it stands she's too engrossed to linger on the humor of it all. In a few more meters she'd be near them. As another volley of shots comes her way she guns the engines one last time, bringing the speeder to the edge of the stage, ramming a few troopers as she approaches and this time she does chuckle. "Oops..." easing off the throttle so that she doesn't do the same to Luke and Leia. Bringing the speeder to a sharp halt just near the Jedi Master, Sabrina rises up, half standing and offering "Sorry I'm late, Master." her smile widening for just a brief moment. "I couldn't find a speeder I liked." So her blow did not take the woman to the ground. Oh well. Next time, perhaps. Leia ducks around Luke to slip an arm about Han's waist, her blaster in her other hand. "Come on, Han. This party has lost it's charm. The silk of her outfit is torn on one side, the black of her sleeve hanging in tatters and shreds. She looks up just before Luke's podium is impacted by the bolt from Danik's weapon. Moving as quickly as she can, Leia leads her husband toward the edge of the stage and the waiting speeder. Using her height, or lack thereof, Leia bends and twists to help Han lower into the waiting vehicle. Keeping her concentration on getting her husband to safety is mared somewhat by Sabrina's quip, though it causes a smile to flicker briefly, "All aboard! Time's awaisting." Oh boy... looks like she just threw oil on a fire. There may be a lot fewer Stormtroopers than there used to be, but there are also fewer /civilians/ than there used to be, several having been killed by the blast of her grenades. Rook shakes off the sense of tragedy as quickly as she can. This is a battle, and it looks like there have been some unintended casualties. But the sense of responsibility won't go away. Briefly she wonders if this is what Luke refers to as 'a tremor in the Force'. And she can see the surviving Stormtroopers going for their grenade pouches now! Rook ducks behind the pillar as grenades fly... Several bounce away from the pillar itself, and their force is deflected by the heavy stone. Except for what's caught by even more civilians. The unintended casualty list is growing. Several more miss the mark entirely and detonate among the crowd. Screams of agony, terror, and in more than a few cases, outrage, fill the air from civilian lungs and throats. Now their protectors are attacking /them/! And as for Rook? She sees two grenades land far too close for comfort, perhaps a dozen feet away. With a startled squawk, she looks around... nowhere to go! Desperately, she grabs the dead Stormtrooper, stands and flattens herself against the pillar, and holds him upright in front of her... Nothing else to save her now but a quick prayer to whatever there is Out There that she'll survive this, even if not unscathed... Well, at least there is more fodder for the Imperial propaganda machine.fehsand they thought *she* was a monster, they should turn and look in the mirror. Rubbing the back of her head where a large lump is forming, Petra winces and just tries not to think anymore, but beckons to one of the Royal Guards who escorts her off of the stage back into the relative safety of the arena where the chaos has not touched. Han squeezes lightly at Leia's waste as his hand falls to her side. He says nothing for now, though concentrates on making his way to the speeder. The group had not missed anything, it seemed, and after several moments of hobbling acrossed the stage he falls into the vehicle, sliding in the seat to permit others to enter as well. Turning to look at the scattering crowd, Han flashes a smile, ducking as several blaster bolts fly overhead, others colliding with the side of the speeder. Flashing a grin to the ravishing padawan who's swooped in to their rescue, Luke leaps into the back of the speeder once is safely aboard. He balances upon the seat, deflecting more flashes of red blasterfire that come their way. "This one will do, Sabrina," he calls out over the din. "Let's go -- and don't forget our friends out there. It's going to be a bumpy ride back to the ship." Once her husband is settled and her brother in, Leia leaps in herself. Scooting over, she flashes two shots at troopers daring to come close to the speeder. Her gaze searches for the other members of their party. Stanley is... there. Ai'kani there and Rook? Where is Rook? It is then that she notes the odd movement of the Trooper leaning against the pillar and the two grenades lying there. Her reaction is more instinctual than skilled as she reaches with the Force to lift the grenades away from the woman she can sense hiding behind the dead man. Too late... the grenades go off, shrapnel flying outwards, "No! Rook!" Sabrina is quick to assist her kinswoman in getting Han into the speeder "Easy there, General." She says, her voice as calm and conversational as if they were sitting in the living room of the Organa-Solo residence. Oh sure there was still plenty of blaster fire and grenade explosions around them, but she seems unphased by them. The benefit of seeing too many campaigns and battles. A fragmentation grenade goes off just meters from the stage sending debris flying and ungodly speeds in all directions. *CLUNK* *CLINK* *CLANK* several flecks of metal and stone and only Maker knows what imbeds into the speeder's side and underbelly and those pieces that don't manage to catch a ride on the once beautifully painted and maintained machine fly wildly over the vehicle. Some of the smaller bits losing their momentum and falling in a biting sprinkling of debris over the speeder's occupants. /THIS/ does make Sabrina wince slightly and she brings the engines back to life, dropping into the pilot's seat with determination now that Han, Luke and Leia are safely aboard. With a smirk towards Luke, Sabrina nods and her hands find the controls once more. It was time to make the exit a dramatic one, or at the very least a safe one, in as much as the group can. With a jolt which is enough to send anyone back against the seats that isn't braced enough, Sabrina steers the speeder away from the stage, swooping down close enough for Ai'kani and Stanley to hop in before she wends the now heavily burdened vehicle towards the area where she last saw Rook. Good thing this particular model was meant to hold six. Reaching out with the Force to locate the Chief of State's aide she shifts directions. Another two stormtroopers get mowed down before they can reach fore more grenades. Once she's close enough she leans out yelling "Rook let's go!" while maintaining the speeder level just long enough for the woman to get in before she's able to take off again. Alive... that's the first thought she has. Odd how silent it is, except for that strange hollow sound. Rook feels something trickling down the side of her face, and feels a burden on her right arm... lowering it, she drops the dead Trooper, his armor now bristling with fragments of shrapnel. That's her Kylan down there next to him, more scratched and battered than she remembers it being before. She stoops and picks it up in her right hand. It's only then that a blur of motion and a sudden rush of air alerts her to something pulling up. Why didn't she hear it? A speeder... a rather garishly painted, open-topped speeder, holding most of her friends. She's never been happier to see anything in her life. A rare, genuine, unstifled smile appears on the tall woman's face as she turns to run to the speeder. She can't see herself, but the speeder's occupants would notice that her left side is bloody and slashed from shrapnel, and her dress is a tattered ruin on that side. Her left arm is worst of all, and it's not moving. Her right side is little better, and she stumbles as her right foot comes down. It's a slower run than she would have liked to the speeder. She reaches up to grab the side... and only one arm comes up? She tosses the Kylan inside and, with considerable difficulty, levers herself up and into the vehicle, nearly falling over the side into a rear seat. With an ice pack carefully pressed to the back of her head, Petra begins the propaganda machines, and prepares herself mentally and emotionally for the punishment she knows will be coming from her Master for the lack of security and planning for this evening. From SW1ki, a Wikia wiki.
- Standing on the balcony overlooking the assembled stage and crowd, Morrison Van Sen, Moff of Selene and capturer of Han Solo chugs down a shot of Corellian Whiskey. He would participate in this farse. Another bad move on the Empire's side, one he could do nothing about. He lights up a cigarette and smokes it quietly as he waits for the prisoner to be brought down and for the judges to be called down to the stage. The tobacc stick doesn't take long to blink out of existance between the Kallan's large fingers. He tosses it into a crystal ash tray and grabs his dark-blue colored helmet. "Time to make a martyr," he mutters to himself. The stage is set... all that remains is for the players to assemble. Already on their mark are the three Judges, imposing figures in their robes of office. At the center of this gathering of Imperial judicial might sits Laurence Dante of Coruscant, weathered and flinty and prepared to pass sentance on the criminals and terrorists who would undermine the Empire. Foremost among said riff-raff is Han Solo... or as the penal system has baptized him, prisoner 3651. "Citizens of the Empire," he begins, steely grey eyes glinting in anticipation of the punishment that awaits Solo, "We have called you to this assembly to witness how the powers that be deal with insurgents, murderers, and the lowest common denominator. The trial that you will shortly be privy to is the culmination of many years of Intelligence gathered on Prisoner 3651, more commonly known as Han Solo." The name is not so much said as it is spit out, Dante's disgust overruling his otherwise iron discipline. Two other judges nod in approval to their senior's words, the robotic gesture of assent echoed throughout much of the assembled crowd. The Empire is nothing if not of one mind. "Prisoner 3651 has made a career out of bombing and killing Imperial citizens, of callously slaughtering law-abiding people. Today we mean to put an end to his reign of terror!" Following close behind the StormTroopers, the Director of the Bureau of Operations strides. Bowing before the tribunal, she rises and announces, "I bring forward Prisoner 3651 for this tribunal to try him for crimes against the Empire and if found guilty pass judgement accordingly." The third judge, a retired naval officer silently nods, giving the prisoner a look of distaste and looks down at some notes on a datapad before him. The throngs of people gathered here for such an auspicious occasion are mind-boggling. A small group of gawkers has made its way along the roadway toward the Parade Grounds, having arrived at the last moment after hearing the news of the upcoming execution -- or so that was the presumption. In fact, they had been seeking out Han Solo for weeks now, but now to see him killed, but to liberate him from the hands of his evil executors. Luke Skywalker, along with his companions, is dressed to blend in with the cultured crowd of Athaniss' cities. He is accompanied by his sister, two apprentices, and a pair of New Republic soldiers who have volunteered for such a mission. Sharing a glance with Leia, the Jedi Master finds a place to stand where they can all be accommodated, and his knowing eyes sweep toward the stage where his old friend is being put on trial. Reign of terror? If one could call the life of Han Solo, a hero in his own right, a life of terror then they clearly were deluding themselves from the harshness of reality, or as the galaxy had come to call them, Imperials. A smuggler and scoundrel turned war veteran, he had been fighting the tyranny and oppression of the Empire for many years, and it had finally caught up with him. Walking quickly, or as quickly as one can within the confines of shackles, Han heads the small group, being pushed and shoved by the white, armor clad troopers as they make their way to the staging area. Still wearing the clothes that he had adorned the day he was plucked from the Corellian wilderness, his hair is matted to his face, dirt and sweat smearing his skin. As he walks his eyes sweep the crowd, a frown spreads slowly, not a face he could recognize. Would anyone come? "A little more gentle, will you?" he states with a slight smirk as he is pushed forward in front of the tribunal, falling to his knees as his strength gives in. Perhaps Petra had been right, today he would surely meet his doom. Stanley is one of the New Republic soldiers who accompany the Jedi on this daring mission. He as well is dressed in civilian garb, complete with a cape that gives him a refined look. As the sight of what has been prepared opens before him, he is hard pressed to stay from narrowing his eyes and uttering a curse under his breath... hard pressed, but trained well. He forces a sneer of satisfaction upon his face as Solo is pressed forward. Aren was standing off to the side of the stage, where the crowd was thinner but his view was limited by the large gallows that had been erected. Before the the pectacle had started Aren had tried to search out Thralos, who had been granted leave as well, but to no avail. The thick murmur of thousands of voices faded as there was movement on the stage. Several white clad men were escorting out a grimy prisoner. Aren rose onto his toes to get a good look at Han Solo. He expected to see a cold looking man, large and terrible. Instead Solo was average in height with a light build and judging by the way he fell to his knees before the tribunal, rather weak. Aren dropped back onto his feet, slightly confused. How could a man so terrible and evil look so simple? "Perhaps they got the wrong man." Aren muttered and stood on his toes once more to watch the trial proceed. Van Sen walks up to the side of the stage, taking one of the 'places of honor' at the ceremony. He keeps his face emotionless as he walks down the stairs and through the stadium corridor. He emerges with his helmet on and makes the stage just before they bring Solo out. He stands there, his blaster slung across his chest in a combat sling. The large Kallan's armor is immaculately polished for the occasion. His personal feelings surprise him. The entire affair is disgusting. In killing Solo they would be making a martry and if they were going to do it, then why not have the trial in a secure location or aboard the Super Star Destroyer where security would be impossible to subvert. At anyrate, the Empire was often tackless in their willingness to defy logic and put on a big show. As he watches the execution ceremony, Loor decides that he has most definitely chosen the right side. How could someone join that band of terrorists known as the "New Republic"? The Empire is right to destroy the evil that is Han Solo. He has slaughtered thousands of innocent Imperial citizens. As he stands there, though, Loor feels as though something could easily go wrong, even though the grounds are filled with thousands of Imperial citizens and there are many Imperial guards,so many people make it hard to keep a watchful eye on the prisoner and all the people moving around. Corporal Sato is sitting up in the stands with the other citizens so he can blend in a little bit. He gets quiet when Dante starts speaking and when he is finished, the Corporal yells his approval as he jumps up out of his seat. Sato's been hearing all about this Han Solo guy and he was looking forward to his execution...that is, unless there was trouble and for that, he had his weapons ready. Ai'kani enters in with Luke and her other companions; some of which she has only met on this day. However, it is obviously no time to make acquaintances. Standing among the crowd, the woman looks up towards the stage where Han stands as if no more than cattle to the slaughter. Her brows furrow together slightly to the disgusting nerve those speaking have to throw the word of justice around. Indeed, this is not justice, but fear personified into the utmost form of violence and ignorance. Her eyes glance around the large area gauging their chances. She doesn't have much to go on. Weapons are nill. Then again, the only real people here with weapons would be the guards... and in a frantic crowd, firing on a few single targets might prove difficult. Ai'kani smiles to this. They might actually have the advantage here. Having slipped into the crowd as close as she could get to the stage, Rook watches the spectacle the Imperials are making in quiet desgust. Having seen the same thing so many times back home, she is almost immune... but to see Han Solo, hero of the Republic, up there in front of this womp-rat court nearly brings tears to her eyes. The tall woman carefully screws her face into a snarl of angry approval. This is justice, Imperial-style. Which is to say, it isn't justice at all. It's about then that she hears a quiet voice mention the possibility that they might have the wrong man. Looking up, she sees a man in, wonder of wonders, an Imperial dress uniform! That's different... she quietly resolves to hold her fire if she sees this one go for a gun. Or at least switch to Stun. She takes a few deep breaths and quietly prepares herself to move. She's not here as a spectator, but as a participant. They don't have the wrong man... and they won't have the right man, either, for much longer. Not if she has anything to say about it. Walking with the rigidly precise movements of an Imperial functionary, Leia's silk swishes unheard in the milling of the crowds. She tries to see around the people ahead of her, but has very little luck. Then, movement to the side attracts her attention and she sees Han being lead forth. For an instant, there is joy in her gaze quickly muted to an official smirk of approval. When he is taken before the tribunal, she cringes within and her hand takes Lukes briefly. She motions toward a position off to one side where the crowd is a little thinner. Eager little zealot wants to move to where she can see the execution better. Or something. Danik remained emotionless as Han Solo was brought out to the stage before the three Judges, Petra Doom in tow. This wasn't the first time Han Solo had been captured, and Danik had grew rather apathetic, his mind shifting to the horrors on Etti IV that ensued as a result of Solo's capture. But that was nearly a decade ago.. maybe the Empire could get it right this time? Unlike Aren, Kreldin wasn't fooled by the fellow Corellian's appearance; Danik knew firsthand what Han Solo had been responsible for, along with his Millenium Falcon. Crossing his arms across his chest, Danik sighed and just wished the judges would forget whatever crap they were doing and kill Solo already. They were taking too long. He began to tap his right foot out of habit, as he began to grow anxious and paranoid. Just hurry it up already! Lieutenant Ashby, one of the survivors of Farlex, was in charge of one security division's platoon of troops placed here to ensure that all went according to plan. They were outfitted in typical Imperial Army equipment, patrolling the area and securing the entrances with check-points, verifying the IDs of everyone who wished to enter. There were more platoons spread out through the grounds, teams of snipers set up, and other surprises in store for anyone who was crazy enough to interfere with the progression of peace and justice throughout the galaxy. "So noted," Dante nods to Petra from his perch before snapping, "Prisoner 3651, you WILL be silent during these proceedings. As you may have noticed by now, the lack of a defense attourney here on your behalf doesn't bode well for you as it is... do not force this tribunal's hand. We are not the sort of savages your people are, but we will not tolerate insolent behavior from you. Be silent or face further corporal punishment." A brief whisper is exchanged between him and the retired naval officer on his right... a joke perhaps? New information? Either way, Dante's thin lips briefly pull into a predatory smirk before he eyes Solo and nods once to the other Judge. "My esteemed colleague has just informed me that the prisoner has been known to boast of his murderous exploits in establishments across the galaxy. This tribunal condemns such evilly-inspired bravado. A killer is one thing, but a killer who recites paeans to his own bloodthirsty agenda is beneath contempt. He is sub-human, a blight on the galaxy!" The rousing speech has the intended effect as the crowd erupts into thunderous applause, a good many shouts of "Death to Solo!" or "Long live the Empire!" peppering the assembled masses. Satisfied with his ability to get a reaction out of the crowd, Dante levels his flinty gaze down at the worm named Solo. "Prisoner, come forward." Petra just tsks inwardly, she *offered* to wash his face so he could meet his fate looking a bit...neater. Years of training give her a militaristic stance even when not in uniform. She watches coldly as the StormTroopers prod the prisoner closer to the tribunal, with a twist of hand forcing him down to his knees. The perform their function with silent precision. As the StormTroopers deal with the prisoner, Director Doom scans the crowd below, her gaze alert for anything that seemsodd. From her vantage point she cannot see much detail and instead trusts her troops to do as told. The naval officer behind the tribunal table looks smug and murmers to Dante once more before gesturing to the gallows and making a slicing gesture with his hand. Many thoughts race through Han's mind as he kneels before the tribunal, and given the circumstances they should remain as such, though this might be his last chance at defiance and he was going to take it. "Corporal punishment further than death?" Han snaps from his kneeled position in front of the judges, glaring through the hair that plasters to his forehead. "Do as you will to me. My death will be met with renewed vigor from the New Republic, there will not be rest until your days of power end." As he speaks beads of sweat begin to form acrossed his brow, a solitary drop running down his temple and leaving a trail in the grime. Standing slowly as he is beconned forward, Han takes a few small steps, his gaze meeting with Dante's. Morrison is thankful he can't see the proceedings. Hearing them was bad enough. Solo was a renegade yes, a rebel yes, but terrorist was pushing it. Calling him evil, when the Emipre had just as many so-called terrorists on their rosters, makes the large Kallan Moff roll his eyes beneath the shielded anonymity his helmet. Solo's penalty was deserved for aiding in the destruction of the Death Star and killing thousands of Imperial troops in the process, but Morrison isn't exactly sure he wouldn't have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. To him, it was all about philosophy. The Empire had it right. Strength was the only peacemaker in the galaxy. Democracy was useful in limited government, but without national ferver, it ended in the death-bloat that ended the Old Republic so long ago. As the crowd chants 'Death to Solo' and 'Long Live the Empire,' Morrison makes a mental note to see if the Empire's top propoganda official has a spice-addiction or not. Teh blaytant COMPNOR crowd-encitors in the masses seemed a bit obvious to him. When the legendary Corellian blabbers toward the tribunal about bringing them down, he finds himself dissappointed. He had expected something more witty and less expected. Urged into the thinner part of the crowd by his sister, Luke squeezes her hand reassuringly and watches as Han -- bedraggled, dirty and too thin -- is brought before the tribunal and is used to stir up the typical lies of Imperial propaganda. He glances to his sister's dark eyes as the crowd around them erupts into cheers, a little smile curling his lips. And in a distant part of the city, a little blue and white R2 unit wheels unobtrusively into the doorway of a munitions installation, joining the flow of other droids who are coming alive for the day's next shift. And, a few moments later, he wheels his way back out, a fiery orange-white explosion blossoming behind him. Loor noticed that one of the Imperials,like him, said that the Empire had the wrong man. Wrong man? That has to be Solo! He has the grimy, evil look of a rebel on his face! And the way he slumped down, he knows he doesn't have a chance, because the Empire brings swift justice. Solo's execution should be the swiftest, because there's no doubt that he has apposed the Empire, and has commited murder,smuggling, and many other acts of rebellion.For once Loor smirks to himself as the crowd shouts around him one thing: Long Live the Empire! "Long Live the Empire indeed, and Death to all who appose it!" Everything is going to be going down very soon. Everything they had talked about. Ai'kani's hazelesque eyes glance to Luke for a moment before nodding to him. She knows what she has to do. Slowly, the woman woman begins to make her way through thickness of the crowd; craning her neck and getting on her tip-toes; as if trying to get a better look. "Excuse me," she says as she passes being after being in a gentle Coruscant accent. Thank you, Faust. At least she gained a few useful things from him. The woman weaves her way through until her circle brings her up near the right side of the gallows. There, for now, she stops and waits. Sabrina til now had been centered in a small portion of the crowd, not too far from her companions but observant still. Amethyst eyes watch the scene unfold, stoic expression on noble features remaining through the whole even as the crowds around her cheer, jeer and murmur. She had a gentle bearing, carrying herself among the cultured of Athaniss as though she belonged somehow, but as the bogus trial and heinous execution proceeds, she moves from where she stands, slipping easily between spectators. Watching the man she loves say his peace, Leia is filled with pride and a fierce determination to end this spectical. She looks up to catch Luke's smile and; for just a moment returns it. Knowing what is to come, she squeezes her brother's hand, then releases it. Easing forward, she slips between spectators to the left of the stage. Short woman like that needs to be up close to see what is going on, right? For only a flicker of a moment, she touches Han's mind with the sensation of a cool breeze blowing. Then, the sensation is gone again. Though she stands at attention, it is surely in support of this fiasco... Er. Tribunal. Yeah. Far over on the left side of the event, Rook watches as Solo speaks his defiance... no, it's not fancy, but /look/ at the man! Clearly he's been tortured and starved... no wonder his wit's a bit lacking at the moment! They wouldn't even have the gall to call this farce a trial on her homeworld... She grits her teeth involuntarily and prays it looks remotely like the idiotic frothing fervor COMPNOR would expect. Her hand slips beneath her cloak, finding the stylish satchel at her side and opening it. From it, keeping her hands and the bag beneath her cloak, she slips a bulky heavy blaster, leaving the weapon half-in and half-out of the bag. It will draw swiftly and easily when the time comes. Hopefully that'll be any second... the soldiers are beginning to look impatient. Just kill the Sith-forsaken criminal and be done wth it," murmurs Stanley, just loud enough that those in the immediate vicinity may hear. Two nobler types turn and nod their head approvingly, while a third turns and shouts into the crowd, "Kill him! Kill him!" But this is not all that the soldier has been prepared for, murmuring anti-rebel jeerings in an attempt to fit in. His eyes turn quicky to watch as Ai'kani departs, then make a similar gesture to watch Sabrina's movements. Only sparing a moment, he begins to ease his way through the crowds, following Ai'kani at slight distance, and making an odd pattern to throw off any watchful eyes that may suspect he is following her. In that regard, he makes his way toward the right side of the stage, smirking the entire time and throwing up the occasional cheer when the surrounding crowd is in that sort of mood. His duty is to flank and protect Ai'kani, and he does so with the attempt to attracted little attention, if any at all. His hand finds its way beneath the cape hanging at his side, gripping the handle of his blaster with loose and ready fingers. So it began. Danik's paranoia once again pulled through as the explosion diverted everyone's attention away from the execution. They were right on time of course. Didn't take a genius to know what was going on at this point. Danik took a look around, watching as the Imperial troops rushed around, trying to get a hold on the situation. Danik himself moved his way through the crowd, trying to get away from the mass of people and to get in contact with some of the troops. Lieutenant Ashby began to shout out orders through his comlink, ordering squads 1-2 to merge with Lieutenant Drexal's platoon and investigate the disturbance. He ordered squads 3-4 to set up a perimeter, while some of the other squads were already in the process of fortifying the area. "Sergeant Major Woden, I hope your team is ready; watch our backs," Ashby said, and he himself readied his weapon. The other troops were already leaving the area, entering repulsor transports which took them to the site of the explosion. Danik, however, was turned down as he approached the troops; he tried to tell them it was a diversion, but to no avail. The troops had packed up and left to investigate the explosion, leaving the troops here more vulnerable to whatever the rebels had up their sleeves. Mumbling a few curses, Danik prepared himself for the worse. The laughter that booms across the arena is as mirthless as it is chilling. "Your precious REPUBLIC will soon be no more," Dante counters, leaning forward slightly to better watch Han, "The wheel of the Imperial machine turns steadily and the Rebellion will soon be obliterated, caught in the cogs and ground into dust. Regardless... as I recall, I warned you about the consequences of not keeping silent. Guards, if you will?" With a simple wave of his aged but still-steady hand, Dante signals for the guards to go about the business of teaching the crowds a valuable lesson of what happens to those who defy Imperial orders. As the dogs of war begin their task, smashing their E-11 blaster rifles into Han's face, ribs and back, more whispers are exchanged between the judges and an approving nod from the naval officer is spared the stormtroopers. The tribunal watches on in silence for about a minute before Dante raises his hand once more, indicating that it's enough for now. "I trust that the prisoner will henceforth keep a civil tongue in his head for the remainder of his natural life," the judge intones, "Because if he cannot, we shall be forced to aid him by cutting out the offending part." The prospect of more violence sits well with the crowds, who shout, "Cut out his tongue!!" and "String him up! Leave him to the scavengers!" As the explosion rings through the city and the sonic cue reaches the arena, the massses become momentarily confused. Dante, however, is no such sap. "No doubt your FRIENDS are responsible for THAT," he hisses at Han before looking up into the crowd, "No doubt there are REBELS among us even today, REBELS who would see this trial disrupted and justice denied the citizens of the Empire! Make no mistake, justice WILL be served today! Your FRIENDS have just accelerated my schedule. Guards, bring the prisoner to the gallows AT ONCE!" Immensely pleased with this development, the crowd roars its approval as Solo is hauled off his knees and marched to the platform upon which his life is surely to end. Hearing the explosion, Petra lifts her comlink and murmers into it furiously and a second pair of StormTroopers move up onto the stage and flank Han Solo. With a swift movement she extricates a blaster from an inner thigh holster where it was concealed. She presses the blaster against Han's back and leans in to whisper, "no doubt your friends have arrived as you hoped but I say that you will meet your Doom today." The odd sensation, a familiar whisp of wind blowing anxiously at him, is abrubtly interupted as Dante speaks again, instructing the troopers to punish those that speak that surpass ignorance and speak the truth; in this instance the offender being Han. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as the heavy swinging of the rifles connect with the already abused flesh, he is capable of taking the first three blows. The sound of the weapons meeting bone erupts in a series of cracks and heavy thuds, no doubt bones giving in under the stress. The swings that follow send Han to the ground, blackness calling out to him, pulling him from the chanting, yells, and further bodily damage that continues. Fighting to remain conscious, his eyes peel open, his vision blurred by a flood of tears that can no longer be held back. Should he have the capacity to speak again to the judges, he would, but for now he would have to fight for his life. The explosion forces Morrison out of his loathful musing. His dark eyes beneath his armored visor begins scanning the crowd. As they usher Solo off toward the gallows, the Kallan knows things were about to become very complicated. Indeed, the entire affair seemed orchestrated in its lax security to draw a rescue attempt. Perhaps it was a trap lain without his knowledge. Regardless of the plans and events revolving around him, Morrison still has a job to do. He makes his way onto the stage and near the section of judges. The priority for him is to evacuate the VIPs, then deal with any rescue attempt that would be forthcoming. ..."Zulu 5-7 responding to incident. Plant manager says he has casualties at the munitions facility, looks like a bomb of some kind ripped through the slag suppressors..." Morrison's ears perk up as security chatter from other parts of the city begins filtering over the comlink... Blue eyes lift to the sky to watch the fireball that rises in the distance. The Force stirs around the Jedi Master, giving him an awareness of the entire scene as it unfolds. He is an instrument of that Force, having served it faithfully for so meany years, and in this moment there is nothing to distract him from his purpose. He unclasps the disguising blue robe which had obscured the lightsaber at his belt, the folds of cloth pooling at his feet. With a nod to those near him, he takes one mere step backward -- and leaps. The figure somersaults through the air, a blade of emerald fire coming to life as he hurtles toward the gallows, and Luke Skywalker comes to light directly beside Petra. The blaster that had been stuck between Han Solo's shoulder blade's is sliced in two, and the Jedi glares at the Imperial minion with a warning look. "True justice will be served here today," he calls out to the crowds, coming to stand in front of the doomed prisoner, lightsaber blazing in defiance. The explosion goes off and, as expected, everything is suddenly thrown out of the Imperial's plan. Reaching under her skirt, Ai'kani withdraws her own blaster and begins to charge it up. It is the sudden awareness of her Master's lightsaber that snaps Ai'kani into action as well. Snapping her outer skirt off to allow for more maneuvering, Ai'kani's legs spring; sending her up onto the gallows. Her hand twitches; wanting to reach for a saber that is not there, but she quickly raises her blaster and fires upon the first Stormtrooper she sees; focusing on her shots to allow the Force to guide them to their targets and aiming to incapacitate. Rook's eyes widen at the sight of Luke Skywalker flying through the air with the greatest of ease. After Leia's stories of her brother and the adventures they'd had, she finally gets to see this... and she has to admit it, she's /impressed/! And more than a little awed. She shakes the effect off quickly, seeing Stormtroopers moving towards the stage. "Hold on, boys, no hecklers, no hecklers!!" she shouts, her Kylan appearing in a blur of black silk and durasteel. The heavy pistol spews red energy as fast as she can pull the trigger into the squad of troopers, but she's not standing still to witness the effects. The stage awaits, and so does a badly wounded, helpless husband to a very good friend of hers. As Luke leaps onto the staging area and slices Petra's blaster, Leia darts around to the stairs up. As she moves, she unbuttons the jacket she wears and pulls a blaster from her wasteband. The distinctive whine of the weapons power cycle rising to full follows her as she moves. At the top of the stairs, she crouches and takes a bead on the nearest trooper and fires. Then, not waiting to see the result, she leaps to one side, letting the force guide her flight. Danik watched as the Jedi snapped into action; one throwing himself next to Han and disarming Petra, while someone else opened fire with her blaster. So one Jedi? They clearly underestimated the Empire. But as Danik saw the Jedi more clearly, he began to feel a bit doubtful. Luke Skywalker himself. Danik knew Skywalker's reputation well, and did battle with him twice in the past. Both times ended in unfavorable results for Kreldin, but he was at disadvantages each time. But this was different. He hoped. Taking his HM-100 riot gun into hands after unslinging it from his shoulder, Kreldin removed his trench coat and fedora, dropping them to the floor. Prepared he was. He went airborne, using the jetpack on his enhanced armor, bursting into the sky towards the scene. He began to formulate his attack; Skywalker was incredibly dangerous, and he had backup. Best to kill his pawns first and then surround him, and another one had just joined the fray. Ai'kani was closer, and thus was his first target. Hovering over the area, he aimed downwards at the lady opening fire with her blaster on stormtroopers, and released a blast from the riot gun. Meanwhile, the Imperial troops weren't taken completely by surprise; they had been prepared when the explosion sounded, but they definitely weren't prepared for a Jedi Master such as Luke Skywalker. Several troops fall from shots from Skywalker's pawns, but more return fire, but unfortunately for the Imperials, a whole platoon was off investigating the munitions, limiting their return fire. Lieutenant Ashby, however, is still around, taking up position with two squadmates behind several stacked crates. Using the crates as cover, he peaked out and opened fire with his ST-I at various targets. Luke Skywalker is not an unknown face to Laurence Dante... indeed, if there is one criminal whom the Judge would like to see dead even more than Han Solo, it is Skywalker. Skywalker and his unnatural cadre deserve nothing but obliteration for the havoc they have wrought upon Imperial designs. "SEIZE THEM," the grey-haired man orders to the troopers, "Do not let the Rebels escape!" Seeing the Jedi up close makes him hate the desert man even more... he's blond, he's younger... he should not be in command of the tools of witchcraft. It's merely more proof that the Rebellion is evil and must be purged from the galaxy. A squadron of white-armored troopers advances on the lightsaber-wielding Luke, apparently unafraid of what the consequences may be. They've hear rumors, but... Rumors suddenly become reality as the weapon is sliced in half. Still, the troopers do not have the option of backing down or running off, nor do they have the desire to. They are here to defend their Empire and their way of life down to the last man if it needs be. At Luke's display, Morrison quickly and calmly escorts the VIPs out of the area. With a sigh Petra scowls at Luke Skywalker., "It *would* be you wouldn't it? You have no jurisdiction herethis is an Imperial matter.." She leans in and murmers to the jedi, her lips curved into a feral smile. Stepping back she gestures her voice rising over the panicked crowds of people, "LOOK AT THESE TERRORISTS, THEY BLOW UP YOUR LIVELIHOOD, THEY MURDER YOUR PROTECTORS, HOW MANY WILL HAVE LOST THEIR LIVES BY THEIR BOMBS, HOW MANY WILL LOSE THEIR LIVES STARTED IN RIOTS BEGUN BY THEIR ACTIONS!" The StormTroopers left form ranks and prepare to deal with the threat, forced on the defensive. Having not taken notice to the pressure of Ms. Doom's blaster pressed firmly against his back, Han continues to lay flat on the floor of the stage. Squinting his eyes tightly, they continue to water as pain envelopes his body. He had not been mistreated during his stay on the capital ship, recieving food and adequate bedding, though the judges clearly were not as forgiving as those that had been taking care of him. Incapacitated by the pain, the happenings around him continue to go on without notice, his body lying in the midst of an upcoming battlefield. As a squad of Imperial troops converge on him, Luke's lightsaber flashes in bright emerald arcs, deflecting shots harmlessly to the side, and sending a few back to their sources. His eyes narrow as Petra whispers her threats, but he has a mission to complete, and little time to trade barbs. His best friend and brother-by-marriage is on the gallows, and he owes it to his sister to make sure he is delivered safe and sound. "Then call off your troops, Doom, and we'll depart in peace," he rasps, dodging behind the woman and using her as something of a shield as he kneels down and presses a hand to Han's forehead. "We're here for you," he says quietly, and waves a hand over his bindings so that they fall free. Finding no resistance on her journey out of the auditorium, Sabrina had exited with relative ease. Why not? Most sentients were trying to get /in/ to see the happenings, getting out was not the problem. Her footsteps echo in a relatively empty lobby, made more so by the troops that go off to to re-enforce certain areas as the explosion rocks the city and casts a golden glow on the immediate surrounding areas. She slips outside, head craning back to see the remaining glow of the explosion, exhaling softly "Good job, Artoo." She murmurs before drawing her violet gaze about, expression lightening as she spots two troopers besides a landspeeder, no doubt brought by some high faluting dignitary and ordered the poor hapless troops to keep it safe. It was the latest model of course, decked out with all the trimmings. No doubt it had a sweet engine lying in wait beneath the hood ready to be used for some creative antics. But there was the matter of the two troopers to deal with. As the scene within the auditorium erupts into chaos, Sabrina can feel the tremors of the Force and she inhales, drawing strength from it as she approaches the two. "Hey.." She says, smiling pleasantly only to meet with the expected "HALT" and the aiming of E-11's. She sighs "The hard way, eh boys?" sculpted brow rising. The two troopers look at each other, and one might almost see the humor on their faces beneath the helmets, afterall what could an unarmed woman pose a threat with? She couldn't hide a blaster under the gossamer fabric of that dress afterall. They raise their rifles level. Sabrina sighs, shaking her head and she draws the fabric up along her leg, revealing a well turned ankle and the soft curve of a developed calve. The two troopers are stunned for a moment by the sheer oddity but not all together unpleasant turn and they lower their rifles for a moment. It's not every day a woman shows off some leg to them. Swiftly, Sabrina pulls the remainder of the fabric up, a silver cylinder revealed where it is strapped to her thigh, and it ignites in a brillant flash of purple. The two guards falter, raising their blasters back up with alacrity but not swiftly enough as Sabrina brings the humming blade straight through both weapons and turning in an arc to strike the pair of stormtroopers down before they can call for help. But it was too late for that, several troopers still at a good distance from her and on high alert already see the action and begin running towards her. "Time to move swiftly." She mutters, powering down the lightsaber and scrambling into the speeder, hands deftly running over the controls. The vehicle growls to life, repulsors glowing as she coaxes it into the air and turns it towards the stage’s direction. "Here goes nothing..." Hearing the distinctive sound of a jetpack, coupled with a riot gun's booming discharge, Leia rolls to one side, ending half under a chair, her blaster aiming upward. Opening to the Force, Leia pulls the energy inward surrendering to it's flow. Her aim is true as she squeezes off several shots that sizzle and arch toward the man above. Petra's shouting might be calculated to raise the anger of those here to rescue Han, but for Leia it does the reverse. It is nothing more than theatrics, calculated to stir the people. To cause them to become soldiers in a war that is not theirs. Rolling to her feet again, Leia races across toward Petra, her fallen husband, and her brother. As she runs, Leia is guided by the force, dodging blaster bolts as they come toward her. Getting close, she leaps into the air, reverses her blaster to bring it's stock down to strick the woman on the back of her head. Perhaps it is not politically correct, but neither is killing her husband. Moreso, even. Okay... there are more of those troopers than Rook had seen at first. Too many to go after directly, in fact. The tall woman winces as the running troopers begin to about-face and form ranks. Covering fire slashes around her as she dives for the cover of one of the decorative stone monuments, hitting on her shoulder and side-rolling. She slowly gets into a crouch from the ground, mindful of her long skirt. Never give Stormtroopers a chance to get into a straight-up fight. They do that too well. It's when things get creative that they tend to mess up. And of all the days to choose to dress up! Admittedly, she's never worn a skirt before. How would she know what kind of trouble one could be? It's about then that she notices one of the Stormtroopers she'd shot before lying only a foot or two away from the monument. Reaching over, she grabs the man and drags him as far behind the monument as she can without leaving its cover. Unstrapping his utility belt, she quickly looks through it. Grenades, grenades... here they are! In short order, three fragmentation grenades are flying one-by-one towards the ranked troopers, arcing in flight and hopefully hitting the ground amongst them... With one, swift movement, Stanley withdrew his DL-44 heavy blaster pistol. The weapon charged with a snap and an exponentially rising whine, and he charged after Ai'kani, his shoulder striking one of the civilians who was too slow to move out of the way, sending the Imperial supporter to the ground. A couple of shots are sent off, finding their mark with skill and excellency as they strike the torso's of two Imperial Stormtroopers on the back end of those approaching Skywalker, causing them to fall to the ground with a clatter of cocoon-like white armor. Then, a few civilians turn, incited by Petra's cries, intent on facing Stanley despite their lack of arms. "Lunacy," he growls, and proceeds to charge them, throwing his shoulder into one's torso, and his forearm into the nose of another. When both collapse on the ground lacking consciousness, he finds a new hole of opportunity, and lowers the weapon long enough to scale the steps and breach the stage, lacking the flair of the leaping Jedi. Turning, Stanley raises his weapon to the approaching Stormtroopers, cover fire lashing out from his pistol as he puts himself between one of the approaching flanks, and the fallen comrade, Han Solo. Shrapnel from one of the fragmentation grenades sears across his face, opening a bleeding wound, but the soldier holds his ground and continues to fire upon the approaching troopers. After opening fire on Ai'kani, Kreldin doesn't stop to look to see if he hit her; he was fairly certain he did, but he had no time to check. Luke Skywalker was now his primary target. Still hovering mid-air, Kreldin saw Skywalker beginning his release of Han Solo. That he could not tolerate. "Skywalker!" he shouted, aiming the HM-100 down towards the Jedi Master. Despite being a stun weapon only, the HM-100 was quite powerful, and Kreldin was going to take advantage of it, and the fact that a lightsaber could not deflect it (having learned his lesson that blasters were useless against a Jedi) only made it a better weapon to use in a situation like this. He squeezed on the trigger, releasing a blast towards the Jedi Master. As the crowd of spectators rushed for the exits, the Imperial troops had a better sight of who was their enemy, and their attack intensified. Most of them didn't see Leia darting for the stage, but they did see the Jedi Sabrina, and thus concentrated their attack on the Jedi, forgetting that rebel troops were also attacking them, such as Stanley and Rook. A Jedi was just a more alluring target. But as the grenades began to fall down upon them, killing some citizens running by in the process, the Imperial stormtroopers return the favor, hurling grenades towards the rebel troops. "What? Are you going to kill me?" Petra's tone is sarcastic, "I am who I amthat is something that cannot be changed. I cannot call off the troops and you of all people know that Luke Skywalker." Her voice lowers to a murmer meant for his ears only and she whispers harshly, "I did what I could now get OUT of here" Knowing it is futile, but a warrior to the core, the young woman swings a muscular fist abruptly backwards towards the man behind her in an attempt to make contact with Luke's nose. Before her fist can make contact, the butt of Leia's blaster comes into contact with her head. Reeling to the side she exposes Han and Luke to the gunfire, her body no longer a shield. It is not the hardest hit she has received on the head, but she sways stunned for the moment and doubles over as nausea overtakes her. Han slowly begins to fade back into consciousness, the battle that ensues around him a startling sight. Grunting loudly as he rolls to his back, he smiles as he catches a glimpse of Leia and Luke standing over him, at least for the time being. Burying the pain in the back of his mind, Han pushes himself up into a kneeling position once again, nearly falling back to the ground several times in the process. "About time you got here," he quips quickly, his voice emitting quietly. He had no doubts that with the help of his family and the others that had come with that they would escape, hopefully without many more casualties or wounds. Skywalker is about to dodge Petra's swing when he sees the butt of Leia's blaster come down on the back of the Imperial's head. As she begins to sway, he grins approvingly at his sister, stepping out of the way so that she can approach her haggard husband. But a tickle of warning comes to life in the back of his mind, one that his senses tell him to take heed of before he is even aware of its source. Eyes close half-lidded, his free hand extending, so that the podium upon the stage shudders and comes flying directly into the path of the HM-100's stun blast. "Watch out!" he yells to the others near him. He reaches out with his senses, searching for another in the mayhem -- the one given the task of getaway driver. *Sabrina? Anytime now!* he conveys along their link in the Force. Fire begins to shower around her, though more specfically red lances of eneregy from fired blasters pelts the air around the speeder and Sabrina gooses the engines drawing hard on the controls and sending the vehicle on an upward climb, engines whining as it lifts high enough to glide over the heads of the gathered crowds, chaotic churning as they are becoming from all the action and weapons fires. Bolts singe into the side of the swoop but the Jedi hopeful keeps her mind in calm focus, minding the controls as she draws closer to the stage. A stacatto of shots from a trio of closing troopers causes her to weave the speeder to one side, lowering it's altitude and the cast off from the repulsors pummel several citizens down to the ground though relatively unharmed. Sab winces, gunning at the power to the engines again and the swoop rises, bee lining for the stage. Everything else around her is a humming symphony, background to her own task. Her senses outstretched though the living Force she keeps a keen eye on approaching dangers, but her task is to get to Luke, Han and Leia with speed that required a certain defiance of the natural laws, or at least, the type of speed she hoped this speeder was capable of giving. Blaster fire continues to rain down on her damaging the snazzy paint job the speeder's owner no doubt spent a small fortune on. Not to mention the upholstery...burned with more holes than a block of savarian cheese. If she weren't so concentrated on what she was doing Sabrina might take a moment to chuckle, but as it stands she's too engrossed to linger on the humor of it all. In a few more meters she'd be near them. As another volley of shots comes her way she guns the engines one last time, bringing the speeder to the edge of the stage, ramming a few troopers as she approaches and this time she does chuckle. "Oops..." easing off the throttle so that she doesn't do the same to Luke and Leia. Bringing the speeder to a sharp halt just near the Jedi Master, Sabrina rises up, half standing and offering "Sorry I'm late, Master." her smile widening for just a brief moment. "I couldn't find a speeder I liked." So her blow did not take the woman to the ground. Oh well. Next time, perhaps. Leia ducks around Luke to slip an arm about Han's waist, her blaster in her other hand. "Come on, Han. This party has lost it's charm. The silk of her outfit is torn on one side, the black of her sleeve hanging in tatters and shreds. She looks up just before Luke's podium is impacted by the bolt from Danik's weapon. Moving as quickly as she can, Leia leads her husband toward the edge of the stage and the waiting speeder. Using her height, or lack thereof, Leia bends and twists to help Han lower into the waiting vehicle. Keeping her concentration on getting her husband to safety is mared somewhat by Sabrina's quip, though it causes a smile to flicker briefly, "All aboard! Time's awaisting." Oh boy... looks like she just threw oil on a fire. There may be a lot fewer Stormtroopers than there used to be, but there are also fewer /civilians/ than there used to be, several having been killed by the blast of her grenades. Rook shakes off the sense of tragedy as quickly as she can. This is a battle, and it looks like there have been some unintended casualties. But the sense of responsibility won't go away. Briefly she wonders if this is what Luke refers to as 'a tremor in the Force'. And she can see the surviving Stormtroopers going for their grenade pouches now! Rook ducks behind the pillar as grenades fly... Several bounce away from the pillar itself, and their force is deflected by the heavy stone. Except for what's caught by even more civilians. The unintended casualty list is growing. Several more miss the mark entirely and detonate among the crowd. Screams of agony, terror, and in more than a few cases, outrage, fill the air from civilian lungs and throats. Now their protectors are attacking /them/! And as for Rook? She sees two grenades land far too close for comfort, perhaps a dozen feet away. With a startled squawk, she looks around... nowhere to go! Desperately, she grabs the dead Stormtrooper, stands and flattens herself against the pillar, and holds him upright in front of her... Nothing else to save her now but a quick prayer to whatever there is Out There that she'll survive this, even if not unscathed... Well, at least there is more fodder for the Imperial propaganda machine.fehsand they thought *she* was a monster, they should turn and look in the mirror. Rubbing the back of her head where a large lump is forming, Petra winces and just tries not to think anymore, but beckons to one of the Royal Guards who escorts her off of the stage back into the relative safety of the arena where the chaos has not touched. Han squeezes lightly at Leia's waste as his hand falls to her side. He says nothing for now, though concentrates on making his way to the speeder. The group had not missed anything, it seemed, and after several moments of hobbling acrossed the stage he falls into the vehicle, sliding in the seat to permit others to enter as well. Turning to look at the scattering crowd, Han flashes a smile, ducking as several blaster bolts fly overhead, others colliding with the side of the speeder. Flashing a grin to the ravishing padawan who's swooped in to their rescue, Luke leaps into the back of the speeder once is safely aboard. He balances upon the seat, deflecting more flashes of red blasterfire that come their way. "This one will do, Sabrina," he calls out over the din. "Let's go -- and don't forget our friends out there. It's going to be a bumpy ride back to the ship." Once her husband is settled and her brother in, Leia leaps in herself. Scooting over, she flashes two shots at troopers daring to come close to the speeder. Her gaze searches for the other members of their party. Stanley is... there. Ai'kani there and Rook? Where is Rook? It is then that she notes the odd movement of the Trooper leaning against the pillar and the two grenades lying there. Her reaction is more instinctual than skilled as she reaches with the Force to lift the grenades away from the woman she can sense hiding behind the dead man. Too late... the grenades go off, shrapnel flying outwards, "No! Rook!" Sabrina is quick to assist her kinswoman in getting Han into the speeder "Easy there, General." She says, her voice as calm and conversational as if they were sitting in the living room of the Organa-Solo residence. Oh sure there was still plenty of blaster fire and grenade explosions around them, but she seems unphased by them. The benefit of seeing too many campaigns and battles. A fragmentation grenade goes off just meters from the stage sending debris flying and ungodly speeds in all directions. *CLUNK* *CLINK* *CLANK* several flecks of metal and stone and only Maker knows what imbeds into the speeder's side and underbelly and those pieces that don't manage to catch a ride on the once beautifully painted and maintained machine fly wildly over the vehicle. Some of the smaller bits losing their momentum and falling in a biting sprinkling of debris over the speeder's occupants. /THIS/ does make Sabrina wince slightly and she brings the engines back to life, dropping into the pilot's seat with determination now that Han, Luke and Leia are safely aboard. With a smirk towards Luke, Sabrina nods and her hands find the controls once more. It was time to make the exit a dramatic one, or at the very least a safe one, in as much as the group can. With a jolt which is enough to send anyone back against the seats that isn't braced enough, Sabrina steers the speeder away from the stage, swooping down close enough for Ai'kani and Stanley to hop in before she wends the now heavily burdened vehicle towards the area where she last saw Rook. Good thing this particular model was meant to hold six. Reaching out with the Force to locate the Chief of State's aide she shifts directions. Another two stormtroopers get mowed down before they can reach fore more grenades. Once she's close enough she leans out yelling "Rook let's go!" while maintaining the speeder level just long enough for the woman to get in before she's able to take off again. Alive... that's the first thought she has. Odd how silent it is, except for that strange hollow sound. Rook feels something trickling down the side of her face, and feels a burden on her right arm... lowering it, she drops the dead Trooper, his armor now bristling with fragments of shrapnel. That's her Kylan down there next to him, more scratched and battered than she remembers it being before. She stoops and picks it up in her right hand. It's only then that a blur of motion and a sudden rush of air alerts her to something pulling up. Why didn't she hear it? A speeder... a rather garishly painted, open-topped speeder, holding most of her friends. She's never been happier to see anything in her life. A rare, genuine, unstifled smile appears on the tall woman's face as she turns to run to the speeder. She can't see herself, but the speeder's occupants would notice that her left side is bloody and slashed from shrapnel, and her dress is a tattered ruin on that side. Her left arm is worst of all, and it's not moving. Her right side is little better, and she stumbles as her right foot comes down. It's a slower run than she would have liked to the speeder. She reaches up to grab the side... and only one arm comes up? She tosses the Kylan inside and, with considerable difficulty, levers herself up and into the vehicle, nearly falling over the side into a rear seat. With an ice pack carefully pressed to the back of her head, Petra begins the propaganda machines, and prepares herself mentally and emotionally for the punishment she knows will be coming from her Master for the lack of security and planning for this evening.
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